


Made Out of Stars

by delighted



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, Hawaii, Intrigue, Origin Story, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-25 02:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12520692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: Max Forrest has just been promoted to Commodore and given control of the NX Project—as well as some information he wishes he hadn’t been told. Holly is a healer who works with covert ops agents when they’ve been damaged by the job, and she’s looking for a way to extend her reach to whatever it is Starfleet is hiding. They both find themselves in Hawaii, and find considerably more than they were looking for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eireann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eireann/gifts).



> Oh, this has been a _long time_ in coming.... 
> 
> Ages ago, I'd started a story about my original character Holly, and I slipped in a bit about Admiral Forrest, hinting that they had history. The longer it mulled, the more fond of the idea I became, and I spent a lot of time daydreaming about it, but nothing really solid came of it till just recently, and then it came all at once. It took a heck of a lot more polishing than I am used to, so this has taken a lot more of my time than I’d imagined, but now that it’s done, I find I’m more than a little sad to leave the world Max and Holly have created. 
> 
> Set pre- _Enterprise_ , it’s really only Trek if you squint. Mostly, it’s a love story with a splash of intrigue, in a fabulous Hawaiian setting. 
> 
> Some of my H50 friends might even enjoy it a little... if only because they’ve heard so much about how it’s taken away from my time with the boys... ;-)
> 
> Holly also appears in Eireann’s [Sanctuary series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/813234), as well as my stories [A Single White Rose](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5336573) and [Home for the Holidays](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5517023).
> 
> You could easily read this without having read any of the others; chronologically, it’s first.

She’d left her patio door open overnight, so she could fall asleep to the sound of the waves. It was her first morning on the island, and while it wasn’t strictly speaking a vacation, she planned on treating it as such. It had been her intention to linger in bed, but she found herself waking in the early morning light as she normally would. Still, there was no rush, so she savored the time to stay in bed, awake, but not rising—not something she would do at home. Taking a deep breath, she tried to identify the smells, so different from her garden at the edge of the woods, but earthy and botanical in their own way. Salt air, of course—always a favorite with her (partly for the way it made her wavy hair curl, partly because she liked how it felt, how it made its presence known); the plumeria she recognized as well; and a few other notes that were similar, but spicier, like cloves.

Next she closed her eyes and let the sounds wash over her. Nothing was as soothing as the sound of waves (although, wind tickling beech leaves was a close second), but there was another sound that morning, one she was not familiar with, softly mingling with the crashing of the surf. At first she didn’t fully trust her senses—it seemed unlikely that the wind was somehow quite that musical, and she believed in island magic, but this was a bit much. Surely there was actually someone playing an instrument, and very close by. Soon voices joined in with the other sounds... she could just make out a conversation, though none of the words made sense to her—it must have been in Hawaiian. _Mahalo_ , she recognized.

In the next moment she noticed a new smell had joined the salt air and plumeria... oh, was that coffee? Breakfast must have been delivered. She was entranced already. Slipping out of the cool cotton sheets, relishing the absence of a need for slippers or robe, she padded softly in her bare feet across the floor towards the _lanai_ , her sleep shirt fluttering around her, making her feel graceful—an image she quickly ruined by awkwardly pulling her sleep shorts down from their ruched up position.

She saw her breakfast tray on the small table next to a strange looking mini palm of sorts (she really did need to get her books out and start working), and grinned. Fresh croissants, tropical fruits, a glass presumably of juice, but of the most amazing pink color she’d ever seen, and a carafe of coffee. Every day ought to begin like this, she decided, embracing the decadent, on-vacation feeling she’d been looking forward to.

Taking her mug of coffee to the rattan loveseat, she put her feet up and tried to tell where the music was coming from, only to realize it had stopped.

A warm voice filtered across to her from somewhere nearby.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Almost right away her eyes met his. They were the deepest of blues, and the way they were lit by his smile made it seem as though he was amused by something secret. His sandy blond hair was cropped short and just starting to turn white at the temples, which suited him. Wearing a tropical shirt and holding a ukulele, he was tan and lithe, but solidly built, and she knew instantly he was military.

Their _lanais_ were separated by airy palms and a waxy green shrub that called to mind her namesake plant—only the white flowers looked almost like plumerias and smelled like (oh, there was the other fragrance) gardenia, and the bright red fruits were substantially larger than holly berries, more like small plums. She vowed to get to her work after breakfast. It was the heat combined with the humidity, she decided, it was making her a tad lazy.

“Not at all, I was enjoying it,” she reminded herself to respond.

She was relieved when he chuckled softly and resumed his strumming. “Well, in that case....”

He played a song that clearly belonged to the islands. It was lilting and sweet and it made her feel lighthearted. After he finished, he spoke again.

“This your first day here?” His voice was so soothing she couldn’t help but wonder if he spent a good deal of his time at work keeping other people calm.

“Yes, and my first time to Hawaii as well.” As if to prove the point, she’d been sampling some of the fruit, and decided to try the oddly colored juice. As soon as it hit her tongue, she gasped. It was the most splendid thing she’d ever tasted.

“Guava juice. Not bad, huh?” He sounded pleased, as though somehow it mattered to him that she liked it.

“You’ve been here before,” she accused, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Born and raised,” came the somewhat wistful reply.

“So, why the hotel?” She asked, before she could think better of it, then kicked herself.

He shrugged. “Didn’t keep the family home. No point. No one to come back but me. Kept the boat though.”

His tone had lightened at the mention of the boat, and she scored herself points at that—a sailor, she had been right. “Let me guess. Navy man?”

He chuckled. “Almost.”

Ah. Only one other option. “Starfleet.”

“Oh, you’re good.” He was openly admiring of her deduction, but also amused, and she was far too taken with that combination.

Mentally pinching herself to focus: “I should hope so.”

“Alright... you’ve got me at a disadvantage.”

She realized she was smiling very smugly. It was part of her job to read others better than they could read her... that advantage was often vital to her work, and was actually quite serious. But when it wasn’t work it was just plain fun. Which evidently was pretty clear to him.

“Enjoy that, do you?”

“Perhaps.” She resumed sipping her coffee before she could slip up and laugh.

He clearly was enjoying it as well, as he chuckled warmly again. It occurred to her that he probably was used to being the one in the know; the thoughtful, observant, insightful one. She could easily see him at home on the bridge of a starship or even at the helm of an old fashioned sailing vessel. He certainly looked every inch the role. But there was an undeniable softness to him as well, and that drew her in even more. It was tinged with a kind of sadness, an open vulnerability that means you haven’t shut down regardless of how much you’ve been hurt—and at a guess, he’d known more than his share.

He could easily have seen the same in her.

“There’s guava jam for the croissant.” The seeming non-sequitur, she realized, was his way of dealing with her inadequate response. But then he began to play another song, as though he sensed she wasn’t quite ready to say more.

Blinking to bring herself back to her surroundings, she found the jam, opening the small jar and sticking a finger in for a taste. Even better than the juice, she decided. Peeling layers from the croissant, she dipped them in, and chewed happily as she enjoyed the music while she contemplated the situation.

Because the thing was, the fact that he was Starfleet was doing strange things to her head, and she needed to work out how much she could realistically tell him about who she was—or more accurately, what she did. Yes, her trip was partly about finding new plants to use in her practice. But there was a larger purpose to it, and his presence in the room next to hers was a little startling because of it.

Up to now, her work, like that of her grandmother before her, had been limited almost entirely to MI6’s wayward agents. Occasionally someone from a sister organization would find themselves on her doorstep. But Holly had come to feel that her fate lay closer to the stars; that her future would be linked to the rising star of Starfleet and to whatever version of secret ops lay hidden beneath the ever-growing complex beside the bay. It’s a strange thing, though, to work your way into an organization that doesn’t want to be known to exist. She’d decided the best approach was to broaden her botanical horizon and trust that when it became obvious to the powers that be that they needed someone like her, she would be ready for them. So, the fact that the first stop on her botanical world tour had landed her practically in the lap of an officer in the ‘Fleet... well, that seemed both fitting and unsettling; her life so far hadn’t exactly led her to be inclined to believe in coincidences.

He’d finished the song, and was watching her, as though deciding if he dared say more.

“Care to join me?” She’d noticed he didn’t have a tray of fruit and pastry.

“I’ve got to get going, actually....” It was genuine regret, not just politeness. “But I’ll be around this evening, if you’d like...?”

“That’d be nice.” She smiled at him easily—his openness seemed to bring something out in her that she wasn’t sure she recognized, and that tickled her.

His smile grew in response to hers, and he stood to leave. “Good,” he said, satisfied. “I look forward to it.”

So did she, she found. And it took her some concerted effort to focus on her planned tasks for the day. It wasn’t until later that she realized she didn’t know his name. Not that she would have looked him up.

That would have been cheating.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since most of what I write is _Hawaii Five-0_ fic, I feel I should explain a few things. 
> 
> We know precious little about Maxwell Forrest, which I actually love, because it gives me room to play. However, two things we _do_ know influenced me substantially. One is that Vaughn Armstrong plays ukulele (and does so really well). The second is that, according to one of the Trek novels, Max almost joined the Navy.
> 
> One of the first things I’d decided about this story was that Max and Holly would meet somewhere other than San Francisco or England. I wanted it to be a place that would be a contrast to both places, and, well, heck. I write Hawaii all the time, so it didn’t take me long to decide to just go for it. 
> 
> Then, once I learned about the ukulele and the Navy, I decided Max simply had to be from Hawaii. So... any seeming connection between Max and _Hawaii Five-0_ ’s Steve McGarrett, who from Hawaii, and is a Navy SEAL, and plays guitar—and who I write nearly daily... well. What can I say? I must have a soft spot for super sweet, musical, and very adorable sailors from Hawaii..... ;-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “JJ” is Holly’s nickname for her cousin, the wonderful Major J. Hayes—though in this story, he’s not a major yet.

Holly spent the morning wandering the botanical garden with her notebook, making sketches and taking notes, then went back to her room to compare her thoughts and observations with what the books said. She liked to study new plants on her own before she biased herself with what conventional wisdom claimed their properties were. Partly it was a game, partly it kept her from making assumptions; kept her on her toes, kept her intuition firing. She checked the three she’d been most doubtful of, and found she was mostly right, which was a nice confidence booster.

She needed to clear her head after, so she went for a swim. The resort’s pool was splendid. Unusually large for the size of the place, it had a sloped shallow end that was like a beach, and a deeper end which led into a grotto complete with waterfall. Swimming in the ocean was not something she would have done alone (JJ’s voice rang too strongly in her head for that), so it was nice to have an alternative.

Walking back to her room from the pool, she heard music as she neared, and was smiling before she could catch herself. She scolded herself for being overly eager—and optimistic. 

He must have been able to see her through the lush landscape sooner than she could spot him, because she felt him watching her. Closing her eyes, just for a moment, she focused in on it. It was warm, and very sweet... yet bold, so bold. She felt a tingle of anticipation along her arms, and taking a deep breath, she rounded the huge red hibiscus shrub at the edge of the path. His gaze was incredibly open as she walked slowly towards him, and he held eye contact the whole way, but kept playing. She found it riveting.

“How’s the water?” He asked, as she neared.

“Perfect,” she sighed. “I never understand how I survive not swimming every day.... May I?” She asked, gesturing to the seat across from him.

“I’d be delighted.” He was still strumming lightly, and the way the sounds combined with his own smooth tones was almost hypnotic. His voice was so soft and rounded, so at odds with his unmistakable military air, and she adored contradictions like that. He exuded confidence, but very gently. Almost as though he were unaware of it, as though it was simply part of his nature and he had never thought to turn to aggression to prove it, unlike so many officers she knew.

“So,” he prompted, once she’d settled in the chair. “What else can you tell about me?” He’d stopped playing, but still held his ukulele in his lap. He _liked_ that she could read him, and that affected her in a way she couldn’t quite name. She was used to it upsetting people.

Looking into his eyes, she let her mind float. He didn’t flinch from her scrutiny, but stayed open, which told her more than he might have imagined. She guessed he was not one to back down, not from a need to be right, but from a willingness to be proved wrong. That was a quality she wished was more prevalent in the upper ranks of the military.

He was struggling with something, that much was thick in the air. He was clearly high in rank—there was something about the way he held himself and she’d been around enough career officers to recognize it. But he looked a little lost. And he’d fled San Francisco to return home for a reason. One thing she knew about sailors: home was the sea, home was the ship, home was wherever they kept their gin (or rum, she supposed). He’d returned to the islands, and that told her he was looking for something he felt he could only find here. Presumably it involved his boat, which was clearly important to him. So, a lost sailor about to go wandering at sea.... What typically prompted that kind of soul-searching in career military men? She smiled. That was easy.

“Well, for a start, I’d guess you’ve been recently promoted....” The edges of his smile crept up making his eyes squint slightly. “And assigned to something new....” Only because she was watching very closely did she see that his mouth fell open just a fraction. She thought she’d like to play poker with him; she’d have him sussed completely within three hands. Trying not to let on she’d noticed, she continued: “But you’ve learned something....” His smile fell from his eyes, just a smidge, but it was enough. “And you don’t know what to do about it.”

“ _Remarkable_.”

He looked a little shaken, but completely enthralled, and she had to ground herself to keep from being too swept away by his reaction. Anger was the more likely response to her pointed observations of people under her care, sometimes violence. Which she was used to. But having someone _enjoy_ it was decidedly different, and it was doing strange things to her heart. Still, it wouldn’t do to play it up too much, so she demurred: “Not that complicated, I’m afraid. I’ve spent most of my life around military men. There are... patterns.”

He chuckled that warm, amused chuckle again. She was already fond of it. “Nice to know it’s not just me.”

“Oh, it’s not just you.” She felt her expression turn serious, and she realized she was upset that he’d been left to deal with whatever it was he’d discovered, on his own. Was she feeling protective of him, as she did her cases? _Be careful, Holly_....

“Huh.” He was taken with that notion, that it wasn’t as isolated a thing as he’d been thinking, and his gaze began to drift.

“Can I get you a drink?” She offered. “Gin? Rum?” She realized she was falling into work behaviors with him, and started to scold herself, but then stopped. The impulse had come from her intuition, and that was something that always served her well. She couldn’t see how it might apply to a vacation romance (if her instinct about that was as accurate as she hoped it was), but she knew better than to dismiss it.

His reaction to her offer was between surprise and welcome—he was not used to being cared for, or hadn’t been for a long time, she decided, and that pained her.

“You _are_ familiar with sailors, aren’t you. I wouldn’t say no to a gin.”

Satisfied to be of use, she rose with a smile and turned toward her room. Taking the opportunity to get out of her wet swimsuit, she quickly put on a navy sundress (the color an unintentional but amusing coincidence, as many of her clothes were the nearly-black shade because it hid the stains inevitable with her work), and twisted her still wet hair into a messy bun, but stopped herself before she could fuss in front of the mirror. Better to not think on it. She brought out two glasses, each with one of those splendid spheres of ice that always made her think of planets. And the bottle of gin.

He’d picked up one of the plumeria blooms that had dropped from the tree canopying the _lanai_ and was twirling it between his fingers. “I think they’re the most wonderful flower,” he reflected, as she handed him his glass and filled it with a generous pour. “They look beautiful even after they’ve fallen.”

She must have reacted to his obvious deeper meaning, because he laughed. “Yeah, alright, that was a bit of a giveaway, wasn’t it.”

The spot she’d been sitting before would be wet, so she took the seat next to him on the rattan sofa, which made him smile with pleasure, and she swore his eyes twinkled. She was _so_ done for.

“Kind of my area as well,” she admitted, taking a sip. The ice clanked against the sides of the glass as she swirled it in her hands. 

He looked up at that, curious once more. “Go on...” he prompted when she didn’t immediately offer more.

In all honesty, she didn’t really know how to talk about what she did; she was either _unable_ to say anything or she didn’t _need_ to say anything, there wasn’t usually a third option. “I guess you could say I’m the one they send the soldiers to when they’ve fallen off their path... to help them find their way again.”

He huffed out a bemused laugh. “Tell me they sent you here for me....”

“No, no one sent me, I promise.” He’d been joking at least in part, but if she was to gain his trust there could be no doubt. She wasn’t sure if she meant trust in a romantic or in a work sense, but she shoved that thought to the back of her mind.

He was clearly contemplating how much he could safely tell her—Holly recognized the expression, that hesitation.... _Do I trust? Do I believe? Who do I trust?_ Whatever it was he’d learned, it had shaken him to his foundation. She made a habit of not jumping to conclusions as they often blinded her to the truth, but she was beginning to imagine she knew what he might have been told, alongside his promotion. Ignoring the prickle of apprehension that tugged at her, she settled herself more comfortably on the sofa, curling her legs under and turning her body sideways, letting him know she was focused on him. But she didn’t push.

After a few more sips, he refilled his glass and offered her more. She accepted, holding her glass out and meeting his eyes with an easy smile. Once he’d set the bottle back down, he followed her gesture, and turned towards her as well. More than that, she read something in his posture—a kind of sinking into the seat people sometimes do when they’re deciding to confide something they think maybe they shouldn’t.

“There are things you learn,” he said slowly, feeling his way just like she had. “When you move up from captain into the ranks of Command.... Things that maybe you’d rather not know.”

He’d have been used to the command structure, having been a captain—and therefore he’d have been used to keeping secrets. This was different. She could taste it. She didn’t move, didn’t blink. And that told him a lot.

“You get that, don’t you.” His reaction was less awed this time. He adapted quickly, yet another admirable characteristic she rated highly.

She didn’t answer, didn’t break eye contact.

“I don’t know if I’m okay with it. I mean, I’m _not_ okay with it, and I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to... how do I stay in this organization and know this. How can I do that?” He broke off and took another sip. “But, shit. I’m not getting any younger. I’ve given my life to Starfleet. I can’t just walk away now....” He looked up at her, his blue eyes dry, but his voice decidedly not. “I can’t leave and I can’t stay.” He studied her face, craving some kind of answer from her. 

Holly was used to letting people examine her; that came with the job as well. They needed to understand her, understand her role, where she was coming from, _what side she was on_. She didn’t really know how she did it, but usually, most of the time, eventually, they got it—she was on their side. Always their side.

He was sharp. He saw it almost right away.

“You get it, you know exactly what I mean. How is that even.... No one gets it, there isn’t anyone I can talk to. They just give me this information and expect me to be able to deal with it, and how am I supposed to do that?” He was frustrated, it was clear. But he remained unhardened by it. He remained engaged. Maybe it was that lack of shutting down, an unwillingness to give up even though he was perplexed, because it reached something deep within her and engaged her in the only way she knew how—directly by her heart.

She finally moved, lowering her feet to the ground and setting her drink down. “Would you like to come for a walk with me?”

It wasn’t all that different from what she would have done with one of her cases. A good part of her role was to be there with them while they processed whatever it was they needed to process, and one of the secrets her grandmother had taught her when she was still very young was that sometimes the best thinking happens when you’re outside doing something else. A deep and secret cozy place is helpful for facing the darkest things, for deciding difficult things. But for thinking, for the processing that needs to happen first, a walk in the hills or pulling weeds in the garden were two of her best tactics.

His face brightened. “Do people still do that? Go for walks?”

“I do.”

He grinned, set his own glass down next to hers, and took the hand she offered to him.

“Alright, then. I would love to go for a walk with you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t know much about pre-NX Starfleet, and there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of consensus about it, so I’m just going to mention a few things for the purposes of this story.
> 
> Some stuff indicates that Max was the highest ranking officer in the ‘Fleet at the launch of _Enterprise_ , which doesn’t quite work for me. But I read things about him having been a captain on a ship within the system, and Vaughn himself has said he imagined he was a very good pilot, but simply “too old” for the NX Project. I think that makes sense, and that’s what I’m going with.
> 
> This story is set in 2140, as that’s the date given for the start of the NX Project (and Max’s promotion to commodore). In the script for _Broken Bow_ , his age is given as “50s-60s,” so I imagine him mid 40s here. (Holly is roughly ten years younger.)
> 
> 45 might seem a tad young to call “too old,” but Archer was in his late twenties when the NX Project began, which seems about right for a test pilot.
> 
> As for Max leaving his own ship at the ripe old age of 45, well... more on that in chapter six.


	3. Chapter 3

The shore right at the hotel was rocky, but it smoothed out to soft sand as they went further on. She took her flip flops off and tied them to the side of her dress with her belt, walking with her feet in the surf as he walked further up on shore, keeping his canvas deck shoes dry, but not moving far from her side.

They talked about waves and tidal patterns, sailing on the sea versus sailing in the stars, and how each island smelled different, a notion that delighted her. And they’d finally introduced themselves.

“I cannot believe we took that long to tell each other our names,” he said afterwards.

She shrugged. “I’m used to sometimes not ever knowing.”

He looked sideways at her, unsure if she was serious or not, puzzling out what she did, and how much it lined up with his recent revelation. If she was right—and she was reasonably certain she was—it would have been hard to not be a little perplexed by the synchronicity.

Suddenly he stopped short, as if in surprise. “I’ve just realized where we are. I’ve never come this way before, never walked—” he caught her laughing silently at him and rolled his eyes in mock irritation. “There’s an amazing spot for food up ahead, mostly locals... if you’re interested in that?”

“I’d love it.”

Just off the beach there was a clearing, under a circle of banyan trees. Along the edge were what she thought at first were little shacks, but when she looked again, she realized they had tires. Each had a culinary theme.

“Trust me?” He asked, eyes sparking, his grin almost impish.

She bit her lip and pretended to think about it. “Go on, then,” and she went to pick a table that would give her the best view.

Before long he was back with a strangely shaped cup, piled high with what looked like brightly colored snow in shades of pink, peach, and orange.

“Shave ice,” he explained. “It looks terrifying, and it’s far too sweet, but you have to try it.”

“What are the flavors?”

“Guava you know, and there’s mango, and _lilikoi_ —passion fruit. It’s home in three flavors.”

Her first bite was tentative, and the flavor was overwhelming to start, but the texture was the most remarkable thing she’d put in her mouth, and she made a sound that was wholly inappropriate in public.

He grinned at that, ducked his head, scratched at the back of his neck, and raised his eyebrows at her. “Glad you like it.”

He took a bite with the other spoon (she was charmed to note that his own delight wasn’t really all that far off from hers), then got up to get the food. She watched as he went. Either the people working the food booths knew him by sight if not also by name, or they greeted everyone as though they were family. He was at ease here in a way he hadn’t been when they’d been alone, and it occurred to her that he was used to being surrounded by people continually. She wondered if he’d miss it when he was at Starfleet. A ship is essentially a village, but Starfleet Headquarters was not. It was a city. A rather anonymous city, unless she was very much mistaken. She was certain she couldn’t navigate something like that, and wondered how he would—if he’d maintain his stability, or if he’d be swayed by the stronger tides.

He brought back two plates overflowing with food, plastic-ware and paper napkins stuck in his shirt pocket.

“This one is lemon butter shrimp. It sounds simple, but it’s probably the best food on earth.”

She really didn’t need _more_ reasons to fall for him at this point, but a man who knows and enjoys his food was always top of her list (and not just because a good part of her charm, to her own mind, was her proficiency in the kitchen). Holly’d always thought that anyone who truly enjoyed food also enjoyed _life_. And as someone more than usually aware of the ephemeral nature of life, that was something that was very important to her.

“And this,” he continued, as she bit into one of the shrimps and knew instantly she would long for the dish once she was home. “This is truly special. This is Kalua pork.” He waited for her to taste it, and while she sat there with her eyes closed in bliss, he went on to explain the sides. “Plain rice, which is wonderful with the sauce from the shrimp, and macaroni salad. But not just any macaroni salad. This is Hawaiian macaroni salad, and I should warn you before you try it, that you will never be able to go back to regular macaroni salad. Though, I suppose that’s less a problem for a Brit.”

“I have an American cousin,” she replied. “Who is very particular about his macaroni salad, so I get it.” She took a bite with due reverence, and wanted to ask JJ if he knew about this, and if so, why he’d never told her. “That is fantastic. It’s completely different, and yet the same. It’s the same, but absolutely better in all ways.”

He laughed. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Once he’d plied her with the best the island had to offer, it became clear that Max was determined to get her to share more about her work.

“So, Holly,” now that he knew her name, he was enjoying using it, and she was too—she liked how softly the “H” sounded in his accent. “What brings you to this lovely island, if not to put me back on track?”

Maybe the sugar from the shave ice had loosened her tongue, maybe it was the breeze off the ocean, or some kind of island magic, but there was no dissembling here. She found talking to him came easily, even the things she wasn’t used to sharing, and that was unsettling but also in a way surprisingly comforting.

“I use plants in my work... botanical remedies, like my grandmother learned from her grandmother, who learned from hers. Wise women of the woods, I suppose you might say, though in my case it’s blunted considerably by far too much education and heaps of training, which I mostly throw out in favor of what actually works. And the plants really do help.” She had been watching his reaction closely, and he seemed genuinely interested, so she dared go a bit further. “I want to branch out... expand my practice. And the best way I know to begin to do that is by broadening my repertoire of remedies. So, here I am. New Zealand next, then maybe Brazil, and hopefully Iceland at some point.”

“Surely you could get access to medicinal plants from all over, from home?” It was the polite way of asking _no, really, why are you really here_ , and that told her he was more than casually interested, which made her pulse flutter and her toes curl, just a little.

“True....” Unsure how he’d take the next bit, she was looking forward to his reaction. Sucking on a spoonful of shave ice, she tried to be blasé about it. “But I won’t use plants I don’t know personally, so I need to meet them first, face to face.”

He’d taken a mouthful of rice with the lemon sauce, and she wasn’t disappointed, he sputtered. But when he recovered, he regarded her with that amused grin, and those damned twinkling eyes. “I like that. How you make it sound like they have personalities.”

She reached over to grab a shrimp. “Oh, they do! You just have to listen.” As she bit into the shrimp, some of the sauce squirted out, and she might have been a little obvious licking her fingers. In her head, she heard JJ scold her for being a flirt, but give Max credit, he stuck to the conversation. Well. Sort of.

“I’d love to see that.” His reply was a tad raspy for talking about plants, but still.

“Really?” She refocused at that. It was one thing for him to be interested in a sort of theoretical way about what she did, another altogether to want to witness it. The only other person she could get to go to the woods with her was JJ, and that was because he adored her, and would do anything she asked. Well, that, and she always fed him really well after, and he was a complete sucker for her cooking... and her baking... and her brewing. (MACOs may be known for many things, but excellent food is not one of them.)

“I could come with you, carry your gear,” he paused, fixing her intently with his gaze—how could anyone ever hope to resist that enthralling blue? “So you can commune more peacefully with the plants.”

He was teasing her, but lightly. And she loved it. She couldn’t respond to the offer in any way other than with total sincerity.

“I’d really like that.”

They fell into sitting companionably, eating, and watching the other diners. It was as if someone’d given him a book titled _How to Win Holly’s Heart in Five Easy Steps_ , because she’d been right about something else—he was the perfect person to sit quietly with, and that was top of her list as well.

Holly kept her shoes off for the walk home, but she walked further out of the water so she could be closer to him—so close they were almost touching, bumping against each other every so often. She hadn’t been this content in... she couldn’t remember how long. A very long time.

When they got back to the hotel, they stood outside their rooms, the nighttime breeze dancing around them, waves crashing more loudly in the dark. There was so much energy here, she felt buzzed, though they hadn’t had anything to drink in hours. He stood a respectable distance from her, but she wished he wouldn’t. She thought he could tell, as he was trying to control his expression and nearly failing.

“What time will you set out in the morning?” He asked, for diversion, she imagined.

“I want to sleep in,” she sighed. “I probably _won’t_ , but I _want_ to....” She sighed dramatically, and he grinned.

“Okay. I’ll be up early again, come find me when you’re ready....” And he headed towards his room, leaving her to swear silently at the swirling island energy.

When she finally went to her room, she took much longer in the shower than usual, and took a _very_ long time to fall asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we talked about music in the comments of _Falls the Shadow_ (from Eireann’s [Sanctuary series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/813234)), it was very much on my mind as I worked on this story... and I wound up with not just a theme song but a whole playlist. Sharing here, in case you want to listen:
> 
> Greg Laswell, “Comes and Goes In Waves”  
> Keane, “Somewhere Only We Know”  
> The Chainsmokers & Coldplay, “Something Just Like This”  
> John Mayer, “Heart of Life”  
> Greg Laswell, “How the Day Sounds”


	4. Chapter 4

For someone used to being in charge, he was splendidly comfortable—and wonderfully adept—as her assistant. He carried her rucksack, which wasn’t exactly heavy, but it was really nice to not have to worry about it swinging off and into a plant she was attempting to befriend. He also was knowledgeable about the trails in the area, and helped her narrow in on the best paths for what she was after.

Holly tended to get easily lost in her work—cataloguing flowers, running scans, taking photos, making sketches. She liked to smell the flowers as well, and just sit awhile with them. If she was alone with plants (as she usually was) she would often talk or even sing to them. She couldn’t quite bring herself to that with someone with her, but she did narrate her impressions, and whisper endearments to a few when she thought Max was distracted. Which wasn’t often; he was clearly enchanted by her process.

She didn’t need to see him to know he was studying her—she could feel it, and was sure the plants noticed as well. He was unveiled in his admiration, even though it left him exposed; it simply seemed he didn’t care, and she’d never known someone so naturally open. Holly was accustomed to people who obscured things for a living, and Max effortlessly gave the impression he never concealed anything, which she knew couldn’t be true (he’d been a starship captain, after all), but it wasn’t his default, and that was something she had no frame of reference for interacting with. It was going to her head and to her heart in equal measure, and she felt dizzy with it.

They got caught in a downpour, which was unsurprising for the island but she hadn’t been prepared, so they sheltered under the umbrella-like leaves of the jungle, and watched the storm’s swift progress, the rain dripping down their faces, falling into their eyes. A gust of wind blew sideways at them and when she shivered, he instinctively stepped closer to provide warmth and shield her with his body. His soft eyes had sharpened, they seemed to glisten (like stars, she found herself thinking before she could tell herself she was being fanciful), and she felt something shift in her stomach, a tension building, but the kind that felt really good—like a promise.

When the rain stopped, they moved reluctantly apart and she did a bit more work, then they headed back to the hotel. As they were already soaked, they decided they should swim.

The pool was deserted except for the young man behind the bar, who made them blindingly bright blue drinks Max insisted she try. When she protested that nothing in nature was that color, he picked her up with surprising ease and tossed her in the water.

Splashing him in retaliation, she held her hand out for the vivid cocktail. “But why is it _blue_?” She whined. “It’s absurd!”

He laughed, sitting down at the pool’s edge, dangling his feet in. “I’m not really sure, but when the moon is full and the light looks blue, it’s magical, and I’ve always loved that, so I have a soft spot for the drink.”

Well, if it was special to him, she wanted to know it, so she closed her eyes and ignored the color, hoping maybe it would be okay. It was a lot more than okay. In fact, it was undoubtedly yet another thing she would find herself longing for once she was home. At this rate, part of her heart was going to remain forever on the island, and that thought pushed something deep inside her. Suddenly and painfully aware that they were on seriously limited time, she heard a voice in her head that might have been JJ’s, saying “Enough prolonging the inevitable,” and she put her drink down and turned towards Max, who had gotten in the pool and was making his way out to the middle. He saw her coming, and she must not have been hiding her resolve well, because he sucked in a breath, went completely still, and locked his eyes on hers.

“It _is_ magical, thank you,” she said when she stopped in front of him. Standing, she took hold of his hands.

He licked his lips, then pressed them tightly together, taking a shuddering breath. She felt the tremor shoot through him. “I, uh... I’m not usually one for, um....” He licked his lips again, but couldn’t finish the thought. His focus was completely on her lips now. He bit his lower lip and she licked her lips in response. He shuddered again.

“I know,” she whispered, and led him towards the grotto and to deeper water.

When they were within the privacy of the rock overhang, and deep enough that he could stand but she was floating, she slid her arms around his neck, and waited for him to relax. Then, slowly, softly, she kissed him. She was _not_ normally like this with men. Yes, she was a flirt. She couldn’t help it, it was part of her personality, and most of the time she didn’t really mean it—something that always worried JJ. But this wasn’t flirting. This was different. Max was different. Unlike her usual affairs with dangerous dark brooding boys she probably shouldn’t get messed up with anyway, he felt... good for her. Like he wouldn’t be a distraction, he would be healing. She laughed softly into his mouth as she thought that. Her grandmother had always told her she’d know she’d found the right man when he felt more healing than thrilling.

He pulled back enough to say “You find this amusing, do you?” but he was playful and teasing, not at all offended.

“Very,” she murmured as she pulled him closer. He pretty much melted in her arms, and she knew they were both seriously in trouble.

After a while, they drifted ever so slightly apart and floated through the grotto, enjoying the feel of the waterfall over their heads, staying within each other’s arms.

“I don’t typically do flings,” he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear after a trip though the waterfall. “What am I saying, I never do flings.”

She pressed her lips together and then kissed him. He responded with that warm chuckle. “That’s your way of telling me you do.” He didn’t need a response, she knew, but she had one she wanted to give. One she needed to give.

“This isn’t that. Not for me.”

She watched his reaction, watched as he nodded, twice, just barely perceptible, and struggled to swallow around the lump that had clearly formed in his throat at the same time one had appeared in hers.

Wrapping her arms more tightly around him, she let him put his answer in their kiss. It was more eloquent than words could have been.

They both soon needed solid land and sugar or protein or both, so they reluctantly got out and returned to their drinks, ordering some sushi and feeding it to each other under the shade of an enormous plumeria by the side of the pool. She gathered several of the fallen blooms and arranged them on the table. He had a point about the soft but durable flowers—they held up remarkably well to being dropped and neglected.

As the sun got lower in the sky, the late afternoon breeze picked up, and it became unpleasant to sit around in wet swimsuits. They walked slowly back towards their rooms, arms touching the whole way. It was still early, but she sensed they both needed some time to process what had happened. Max took her hands, and, looking down at them, offered them a way to do that. “I have something I need to do tonight, or I’d take you for another island feast.”

“I should really go through my notes before I forget everything anyway,” she agreed. Not that she wasn’t disappointed, but she really did need to spend some time focusing or she would surely regret it.

It seemed Max was working up the resolve to say something more, so she smiled encouragingly and waited. He noticed, and it helped. He licked his lips, and she noticed he was looking at hers again. Her heart sped up. Then he met her eyes, and she nearly stopped breathing. She could feel the weight behind his gaze, and she met it openly, without effort. It felt amazing.

“My boat will be ready to head out in the morning. I had planned to sail out to one of the smaller islands, just for a couple of days, be away from everything.” He paused, glanced down at his feet uncomfortably for a moment, swallowed, then—standing just that little bit taller, he searched too deeply into her eyes. “Come with me.”

It was an incredibly intimate gesture, she had no doubt about that. And if she had, the way he was holding her with his eyes would have been more than enough to clarify his intent.

“I’d like that,” she replied warmly, squeezing his hands.

His eyes danced with pleasure. “Good. Pack something warm, it gets cold at night.”

“Can I bring anything else?” She asked, hating to feel useless.

“Just yourself.” He started to move away, dropping her hands reluctantly. “We’ll leave early in the morning. Can you be ready by five?”

“Of course.”

He grinned, nodded, and went inside.

Holly spent twice as long organizing her notes as it should have taken. Perhaps because she kept finding herself more than a little distracted by the anticipation of going sailing. Or maybe parts of her had other ideas of what the trip might entail. Giving up after far too long accomplishing far too little, she ordered room service, then put her notes away and packed her small carry-on with essentials. She hadn’t brought anything especially warm for this section of her trip, but she packed layers, and hoped he’d have something warmer she could borrow. She ate her food sitting out on her _lanai_ , but it just wasn’t the same without Max’s playing.

She really was seriously in trouble.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about sailing. Also, I’ve kind of made islands up. ...Just go with it.

They left before the coffee and pastry and fruit trays were delivered, but he’d brought her a coffee and a pink cardboard box he promised contained the best breakfast on the island. He tossed her bag in the back of the flitter while she settled in the front, musing over the warm, sweet smelling package.

“Is this going to be another thing that will make me want to never leave?” She asked.

“Probably,” he replied, smiling, and taking a sip of her coffee.

“Careful, Max, you’ll regret it if I don’t get enough of that. I didn’t exactly sleep very much last night.”

He pressed his lips together to suppress a smirk, and she thought he turned a little pink.

“Open the damn box,” he whispered, which made her laugh.

They looked almost like doughnuts, but they were too heavy for that, and much darker. They were lightly coated in caster sugar, three of them the typical doughnut shape, three of them filled-to-overflowing with white, cream, and yellow custard fillings.

“Dare I ask?” She watched him, as he struggled to focus on driving and not her.

“Malasadas,” he explained. “The best of all possible pastries. Start with one of the plain ones,” he suggested. “The filled ones, just taste them. The yellow is pineapple, but it doesn’t taste like you think it will. The whitest one is _haupia_ , or coconut. The one in the middle is custard. I’ll take whichever you decide you like least.” He turned to look at her. “Or eat them all, if you can’t resist.”

For someone un-prone to flings, he was awfully flirtatious.

She tore a section from one of the plain ones, and popped it in her mouth. “Ohh, that is dangerous,” she murmured as the warm dough filled her with that sense of well-being that only truly splendid baked goods can. Her fingers coated with sugar, she held a piece out to Max. He over-reached his bite, and his teeth scraped her fingers, tongue darting out to clean off some of the excess sugar. “Hey now,” she scolded, leaning into him. “Try not to crash us, please.” She didn’t move away, though, and the heat coming off his body made her lightheaded.

She tried each of the three filled malasadas, messily tearing bits off for Max, and getting her fingers licked in thanks. Fortunately they arrived at the harbor before things could go much further. Sugar, caffeine, and sexual frustration, what a fabulous combination. Her body was tingling.

His boat was a classic, cozy, and sturdy looking one-person rig, golden polished wood and bright white paint. The brass fixtures had very recently been polished (at a guess, last night). She looked well-used, well-cared for, and very much treasured. The name _Hoku-Lele_ was painted on her side in bright blue script. Max followed her gaze. “It means shooting star,” he explained, the love clear in his voice. He was proud of this ship, she could tell. She also suspected he’d not shared it with many.

Holly climbed aboard, stowed her bag, and admired Max’s prized possession.

“You know boats?” He asked, suddenly behind her, his own bag swinging over his shoulder.

“A little. My cousin JJ was raised in a Navy family. He rebelled and went to West Point, which tells you just about everything you need to know about him, but he took me sailing one summer when I visited.” She turned in the tight space, and was practically in Max’s arms. “I won’t be much help, but I will be appreciative. And I don’t get seasick.” She was having a hard time breathing, however, which wasn’t helping that lightheaded feeling. It would help if her blood would cooperate and go to her whole body and not just specific places, thank you very much.

He smiled down at her. “Good.” He handed her his bag. “Stow that below, pick a spot out of the way, and we’ll be off!”

She grinned, glad to be given a task, and settled herself at the bow, a place she’d favored on JJ’s boat, which was comfortingly similar to this one.

Max stayed focused until they were well out to sea, his training apparent in his every move. But once the going was smooth, he made his way up to her, a flask of something in his hand.

“I always make a toast once I’m out,” he explained, taking a swig and then handing it to her. She took a tiny sip, speculating what the flask contained. Her care paid off as it did indeed hold a large amount of Naval Strength Gin. He grinned as she sputtered.

“I think I prefer my fruity botanical gin.” But then he bent down and kissed her. “Or maybe not,” she amended.

“Come sit with me,” he commanded, and she knew that his was a ship people had enjoyed serving on, because even his commands were warm and inviting.

They sat at the helm, and he kept a watchful eye, ever observant, noting the changes in the wind, adjusting as needed. His blue eyes were sparking in the sunlight, he looked at home, and it seemed to her as though he had the sea within him, and it reflected out through his eyes. The notion did something very peculiar to her heart.

At lunchtime he dropped anchor near a tiny outcropping sticking boldly up out of the sea, nothing else in sight. She hadn't seen him use any of the high tech navigation equipment she knew he had. He'd gotten them to this tiny speck how? It seemed like magic to her.

Lunch was simple-but-hearty fare, sandwiches and soup, and she was sure they were delicious, but she barely tasted it. Max had been captivating to her on dry land. But at sea, in his element, he was breathtaking. She'd stopped trying to hide it, and he'd noticed. He was taking it remarkably well, she thought, and it made her bold.

"So, why did you pick Starfleet over the Navy?" She asked, between mouthfuls of sandwich.

He grinned lopsidedly and sighed. "Typical teenage desire to escape from home?"

"I have a hard time imagining you as rebellious."

He laughed. "Probably fair," he admitted. "But islands can feel claustrophobic." He finished his soup and set the cup down. "I had a feeling I could only go so far if I stayed. And I wanted more."

"So, you aimed rather more for the stars...." She found it impossibly romantic. No adventurer herself, she'd barely left the woods she grew up in.

"I studied astrophysics at a time when it was shifting from a theoretical to a practical science. It was thrilling." His body hummed with energy as he recalled his schooling. She imagined she could feel the vibrations through the deck of the boat, and they were very like the thrumming she felt from the hull smacking the waves. Sailing the stars or sailing the waves—she knew she wasn't the first to feel they had more in common than some might think.

She cleared the dishes from lunch, washed up quickly, and when she climbed back up, he'd got them going again, and laid out pillows and blankets over the bench, creating a cozy nest to curl up in. Her heart thudded rather too loudly, but once she settled in by his side, and he wrapped an arm solidly around her, she was simply at peace.

"So, what about you," he asked, kissing the top of her head as she leaned it on his shoulder. "How'd you decide to follow in your grandmother's footsteps?"

She sighed and shifted closer. It wasn't the easiest of stories, but he made her feel so comfortable. "I think that comes down to some version of _I really just couldn't be anything else_." She'd kicked her shoes off before lunch, despite Max's protests, and she wriggled her toes in the soft blankets. "I tried, in a way—that summer I ran away sailing with my cousin, that was my attempt to escape. But I just wound up pulled back to those woods. My grandmother said it's because they're in my blood."

She felt him huff out a breath. "I get that. It's why I kept the boat, when I wouldn't keep the house."

"Do you not sail in San Francisco?" She'd wondered about that.

"I haven't. Not yet. It's... different. Here, I know it, I could sail this route with my eyes shut. There, I'd have to follow charts, use the equipment.... I'm not sure I want that." He pulled back enough to look at her. "Is that strange?"

She reached up and kissed him. "Not in the least."

As she began to settle back, he put his other arm around her and drew her closer. They kissed until they were breathless, then she found his hand in the blankets, and held it tightly.

They arrived at the island as the sun was nearing the horizon. He found a cove that was sheltered and snug, and set anchor.

"We'll explore in the morning. Right now, we have time enough to make some dinner, then we can watch the sunset."

Neither of them was very hungry, but they both enjoyed the close proximity demanded by the tiny galley. Eventually they settled on a loaf of rustic sourdough, some hunks of cheese, and a couple bunches of grapes. Max pulled out a bottle of wine. “There should be glasses in the cupboard there—” he tried to point, but Holly grabbed the bottle from him and scampered back up on deck.

"We'll just spill if we use glasses," and reached back down for the food, which he'd put in a basket.

Laughing, he climbed up after her. "That sounds promising," he whispered rather too closely in her ear.

She shivered in response. He kept managing to surprise her in subtle ways, and she found it positively entrancing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pink box of malasadas is from Leonard’s. It’s iconic. And seriously the best pastry ever.
> 
> That bit about JJ being from a Navy family comes from Steven Culp’s real life. I couldn’t resist using it—yes, I evidently have an obsession. 
> 
> The thing about Max and astrophysics is from the Trek webs.


	6. Chapter 6

After the sun had set and it had grown dark, they'd finished the food and most of the wine, and Max had spread the blankets out on the deck so they could lay back and look up at the stars. It wasn’t quite a big enough space to stretch out, so they had their legs up on the benches, Holly at a slight angle to him, her head resting on his chest. Every once in a while, he’d put a hand up to her head, smoothing back her hair—she didn’t think he realized he was doing it, and she loved that. He was pointing out various stars and constellations, but he was poetic more than he was scientific about it, and it struck her that he was probably like that with his work. A Starfleet Captain with a serious romantic streak, like the adventurers of old. It was almost as though someone had crept inside her mind and created him from someone she’d dreamed about, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that.

After an especially lovely description of a distant star cluster, Holly felt her head swimming with the physical reality of space. She loved watching the sky back home, because it seemed vast and distant and unknowable, and she found that comforting. Max made the stars seem tangible. Like she could touch them if she tried. Like she should _want_ to. It reminded her of something her grandmother had told her, when she’d been little and afraid of the night.

“I’ve always loved the idea that we’re made out of stardust,” she said, into his neck, before kissing it. He shivered and she felt a thrill at his unwilling response to her. “Telling that to an astrophysicist feels like an illicit confession,” she admitted.

He let out a bemused exhalation, but didn’t otherwise comment. He seemed to be getting himself a little bit lost in the stars and his position relative to them. She knew she’d had a hand in affecting his processing of the dilemma he faced (much as she would have done if he _had_ been sent to her); getting him to open up, but then distracting him, filling him with other thoughts, showing him comfort, and then letting him come back to the topic himself. True, she’d been more than a little distracted herself, and certainly, this wasn’t exactly how it would ordinarily go. But she could tell he needed to face it now, and she couldn’t have arranged the setting any better if she’d tried. The night, the pillows, the stars—a cozy safe dark place, just like her grandmother had taught. She felt unaccountably nervous, and didn’t want to admit why, but she had not allowed herself a guess at what he might decide, and it was possible that part of her was afraid that if he rejected Starfleet because of what he’d learned, it might mean him in essence rejecting her as well. And she wasn’t sure how she would deal with that.

Regardless, he was heading down the path towards deciding, and she wasn’t about to abandon him. Taking a slow breath to prepare herself, she let her mind follow her breath, and swallowing her own fear about where he might end up, she dove in with something she’d been debating all day.

“I can’t decide if I think you like the stars or the ocean better.”

His chest under her head rose exaggeratedly, then fell slowly, and it was a while before he replied. He was contemplating her question seriously, wanting to give her an honest answer, a meaningful one.

“I think I love the stars more, but I’m more at home on the sea.”

“That’s why you came back,” she whispered, prompting, but not pushing. “To decide... if you stay with the stars, despite what you now know.... Or if you go back to sailing.”

There was a long pause, and she was pretty sure he was waiting to feel he’d have control of his voice before he spoke. She felt him nod.

“I never thought I’d have to make that choice again, between the two.”

Finding his left hand, which was resting loosely by her head, she twined her fingers with his. He had a nautical star tattoo on his inner arm, just below the wrist—where it was easily hidden beneath his uniform, but where he might (as she suspected he did) press it with his fingers when he needed to be reminded. The sailor lore, she knew, was in hopes they would never get lost. No other group of people was more obsessed with fear of being lost than sailors, none more easily adrift, none more in need of that guiding star. She brought his wrist up to her lips, and kissed the star. He needed to find his own way, she knew that, and she wouldn’t try to sway him in her direction no matter how she felt about him. But she could help shine a light. She moved onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow, so she could look at him.

“If you leave Starfleet, what impact will that have on what you’ve learned. Will it affect anything?”

“No. I don’t kid myself about that even for one moment.”

“But if you stay....”

He turned to look at her and she saw that his eyes were cold and hard.

“You think I can mitigate it.”

It was clear he’d been thinking it—what wasn’t clear to her yet was if he believed it himself or if he’d simply worked out it was likely to be her position. She wouldn’t answer that question for him. All she could do was share her experience.

“The work I do. To make the fighters well enough to resume the fight.” She sighed. “If I didn’t do it, they’d still be there, they’d just have one less path towards coping. I don’t love that I’m part of that machine. I hate it, in fact. But I know it will continue... and I’d rather be there, doing what I can. It’s not the best solution. But it’s what I can do. It’s what I do well.”

He’d stayed facing her as she spoke, and his eyes had stayed hard and unreadable. As she watched him take in what she said, she wondered if it would affect how he looked at her. In addition to being idealistic, he was steadfastly moral, she’d known that implicitly and admired it. Maybe she was a little envious. Her own morality was more flexible; it had to be. Frustratingly, she couldn’t read him at all. He needed more, and there was something that had been bothering her, so she pressed forward.

“I want to ask you something, Max, and I want you to think seriously about it. Because, one thing keeps puzzling me, more and more, the better I get to know you. I can tell you love being at the helm of a ship—I could have guessed that without seeing how you inhabit it. It’s clearly in your soul, in your heart.... And you’re nowhere near old enough to be forced out. So why are you giving that up?”

He softened at that, and maybe she’d just cheated a little, because early on it had been clear that he was absolutely taken with how well she could read him, and if she’d just used that to her advantage, she might have felt a tiny pang because of it. But, it had worked.

“You’re right, I love being on the bridge. And maybe more than that, I love being in charge of my crew—they’re my family, always have been. So, yes, I hate losing that. _But_.” He leaned back, and looked up at the sky. “We’re on the verge of a breakthrough, with the NX Project, to make it to warp five, which will change everything. And I am getting old.” She scoffed, and he laughed. “Shhh, you’re sweet, but it’s true. The young kids are the ones who will take us on this next path. The only shot I had at being part of that was from the ground. If I took commodore and gave up my ship, I could be a part of that program. And not just any part, but overseeing the whole thing. Really, I couldn’t have resisted the opportunity.”

Something about his word choice shook something loose in her mind. “Max, did anyone know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did anyone know you wouldn’t be able to resist if you were offered NX? Was there anything at all unusual about you being given the position?”

She could tell she’d hit a nerve. He squirmed a little, looked at her as though she’d pulled some deep dark thought out of the recesses of his mind. “How’d you—” he sighed. “Yeah, okay. There are at least six other people who made more sense to get the post than me. I was flattered and maybe a bit full of myself at first. But then I found out about the Section—Section 31 is what they call it, the seedy underbelly... well, you know what it is, you worked that out right away, didn’t you—anyhow... I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought.”

“Max.” She reached out and touched his arm, squeezing it gently but firmly. “Is it possible that someone wants you at Command _because_ of Section 31?”

“But why would they? How does that make sense? It was made very clear to me that there is nothing I can do about it, and if I dare think otherwise....” He shuddered. She imagined he’d not taken kindly to having been threatened. He’d never raised his voice, she couldn’t imagine him upset, but she could tell _that_ had made him angry. “I mean, there isn’t anything anyone can do.”

Without replying, she leveled a meaningful look at him, her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to connect the dots that had been swirling around them both. She saw the moment it happened.

“Oh, but there is. That’s what you’re trying to tell me. That’s what you’ve been waiting for me to realize. I’ve been stuck on the fact that it even exists. That it’s ruined my idealistic notion of Starfleet.... While you’re right in front of me telling me what you _do_... what you actually do, to try to make it better....”

He was irritated with himself. She felt bad for her part in that, and softened.

“But I was born into it, Max. It’s a completely different thing for you, and making peace with the fact that it exists... that’s no easy thing. I’m coming from such a different place. I knew it existed, and I knew I wanted to do something about it.”

His eyes narrowed. She’d wondered if he’d guessed that part, the part she hadn’t really said... that she’d had Starfleet’s shadow side in her sights from the beginning.

“And now I’m going to ask you something, Holly. And I need you to be honest with me.” His voice was still quiet, but it had taken on a harder edge. “How is it that you ended up in the room right next to mine, at the hotel I always come to, when I was as lost as I’ve ever been.... Exactly the right person, in exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time.... You said no one sent you. But can you be certain about that?”

She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he was absolutely right to doubt that. If she was really honest with herself, she’d been doubting it from the beginning.

“I don’t know, Max. It has been too much of a coincidence, and I have to admit it’s possible, given who would be involved. But it would have been a lot of work, and why would someone go through the trouble?”

“You tell me.” His voice was still low and serious, and she got his meaning clearly; this was her area, not his.

She pressed her fingers to her eyes to help her sort it out. “The thing is, Max, this trip has been a crazy mess to organize. I was supposed to have come ages ago—there was a conference with Starfleet Medical, and I really wanted to make connections, but a case came up at the last minute, and I had to cancel—and, oh god, Max. That case never materialized.” He raised his eyebrows at that. “That’s probably where it started. But Max, that was almost a year ago.”

“And since then?”

“I booked at least two other times after that. Different places. And.... Each time something came up at the last minute.”

“And this time? How’d you pick the hotel?” He was insistent in pressing her, but he wasn’t at all harsh and she appreciated that.

“It was out of the blue... an old friend of mine heard something through an acquaintance of a colleague, or something? It seemed innocent enough at the time, but, yes, that could have been a plant.”

“And the _timing_?” Again, still soft, but leading.

She shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand. “I wanted an ocean front room and this was when there was one.”

“Holy hell,” he fell back with an exhalation that made it seem as though he’d been holding his breath the whole time. “Someone could have easily messed with that. This is not exactly looking like a coincidence, is it?”

“No. It’s really not.” She tried to inhale slowly and was irritated that it was so difficult. “But why? And who?”

Max gave her that expression again— _you tell me_. “Take your best guess, and don’t spare my feelings.”

She sighed, and rubbed the back of her neck. There were really only a handful of options, but she wanted to be sure she was thinking clearly about it. “It’s got secret ops written all over it, but not normal ops. This is... there’s something very strange about this. It’s all intertwined.... You going home to think, and me wanting to come here.... Someone gets that to happen at the same time so that we meet. Why is it important that we meet? We discover this common thing—my job, your conflict about the Section. What does that create? _Ah_. What are we both open to now, that neither of us would have been before? There’s a reason this is so backdoor, Max. That says either Section 31 or Starfleet can’t for some reason be upfront about it. It’s not official, it’s not sanctioned. Someone wanted a below the boards way of getting agents help, outside of the ‘Fleet, outside of the Section.”

“Okay, that makes sense. And I can see they’d want to go about recruiting you in a backwards kind of way because of that. But what’s my role in all of this?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m not sure I like any of this.” But when he opened his eyes, he smiled at her, and her heart turned over. She’d been worried how he’d take this, but she should have given him more credit. Because that smooth, mellow nature of his was amazingly accepting of everything she’d thrown at him, and she couldn’t get enough. She took a deep breath and tried to smile back.

“You’re the fall guy. They can’t bring me in officially because that means admitting they’re doing something they don’t want to admit they’re doing. You bring me in, sneak me in, you’re culpable. You know about the Section, you’re aware they’re doing things that mean agents need treatment.... But they have deniability, if it comes to it. If it backfires, they cut you loose.”

“No officer I know would agree to that.”

“But you have.”

“Have I?”

She just looked at him.

“Yeah, you’re right. I have. But, that’s because... well, you know why.”

It was that moment, more than all the others, that sealed his fate within her heart. Because for all his idealism, when it came down to it, he was willing to go there with her after all. He was choosing to twine his fate with hers, barely knowing what he was getting himself into. She’d been worried he would be too proud, too self-righteous, to allow that. But he wasn’t, and she should have known it. He was astoundingly well-suited for her, he’d proved that time and again... and suddenly all the thoughts she’d had over the past days of _How to Win Holly’s Heart_ , ticking items off her list, the notion that someone had crept inside her head and discovered what she would fall for.... They all came flooding back to her in one huge wave.

“Oh, my god.” She felt like she’d forgotten how to breathe. “Oh my god, they knew, Max. They _knew_ I’d fall in love with you.”

She looked at him, expecting to see him looking as horrified as she felt. Instead, he looked like the proverbial cat who’d got the cream. And a mighty big dish of cream at that.

“Well, that’s half a decent plan, darlin’....” He paused and bit his lip. “But it’d only work if they knew I would fall in love with _you_.” The cat-like grin faded to a smirk, but not before her stomach had turned itself inside out. “Because it seems to me that I’m the one putting my career on the line here, if I agree to this.” He nodded, and his expression turned more serious. “And, you’re right, I am agreeing to it. And I’m agreeing to it because of you.”

“I cannot believe we are having this conversation.”

“And yet, here we are.” They sat looking at each other in silence for a bit, overwhelmed by all of it. Then something occurred to Max. “How will they know? That we’ve decided to do this?”

“Oh, they’ll know. Hell, they probably already do.”

“Don’t freak me out. How could they possibly?”

“No, I just mean... _us_. We haven’t exactly been subtle....”

For a minute she thought he was going to say something incredibly crass, but he managed to hold it back—though it came through in the twinkling of his eyes.

“I feel like such an idiot, but how will we know what to do?”

“It won’t be subtle, if that’s what you’re wondering. And there won’t be any doubt about what is expected.”

“Should we be worried?”

She’d been thinking about that, her nerves racing to scout for danger, but she just hadn’t felt any. Shaking her head, she thought of how to explain her sense of it.

“I doubt it,” she began, feeling her way along what made sense. “Someone went to a great deal of trouble to set this up, and they’re going to be motivated to protect that investment. And there’s something about this whole thing... there are a number of ways someone could have got what they were after, but they chose _love_? Maybe I’m a sentimental fool, but I just don’t think that was done with malicious intent.” Having said that, she realized there was one possibility she’d been ignoring. Which maybe was stupid of her. “Although... it certainly could have been, I mean, if they wanted to be able to threaten us with the safety of the other, they’d absolutely be able to do that, but—”

“Right, so before you completely destroy any remaining naïveté I’m somehow still holding onto, could you come here and kiss me?” Max was, for the first time since she’d known him, growing impatient. She looked sideways at him, and she was pretty sure her expression was pained. He sighed. “Look. I did not imagine I would ever find someone who would fall in love with me. Can I just enjoy that for a moment, please?”

“This is _so_ messed up.” She was having a hard time with how easily he was taking this.

He nodded, slowly. His smile was growing again, and it unnerved her. “Yeah, it is. But I kind of think I’m okay with it.”

“I would have thought you’d be the one upset about this.... I’m used to playing this game, I’m used to taking stupid risks, but it’s only ever been me I’m risking, I’ve never been responsible for—”

“ _Holly_.” One of the many things she loved about him was that he’d not pulled rank on her. He came close now. His tone was still warm, but there was an added weight behind it—and that was all it took. He had her complete focus, as if he’d somehow mesmerized her. And, damn, why had they let this man off the bridge of his ship, because he must have been one hell of a captain.

“If this is why I was brought into Command, if this is why I was bribed off my ship....” He reached out and stroked her cheek, and his voice softened. “ _If this is why we met_....” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “And if that means that through me, you are able to mend some of the agents Section 31 breaks. Well, then. I think,” he took a breath that was probably shakier than he would have liked, swallowed, and gave her the most serious look she’d seen from him. Slowly, with weight on each word: “Then, I think that I am okay with that.”

He wasn’t, really. She knew that. But the fact that he said it meant the world to her.

“Okay,” she whispered, and let him pull her toward him as he’d wanted... as he needed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I simply had to borrow the Bones-ism _darlin’_ for Max, even though he’s not Southern. I can totally hear him saying it, and you know where the “Forrest” part of Admiral Forrest comes from, right? Yeah... DeForest Kelley. *sighs dreamily*
> 
> Also, Max said “holy hell” in an episode, and I just loved that.


	7. Chapter 7

Once Holly had settled into Max’s arms and they’d curled up in the soft, comforting pile of blankets and pillows, there was a subtle but definite shift to everything. She’d been looking for a new purpose, he’d had one forced upon him, but those purposes had tangled in a way that meant they were in this together, and that was something neither of them had anticipated having, and it changed them on some fundamental level. If they were right (and it seemed next to impossible they were wrong), what a thing it was: to have been brought together by some secret maneuver, by someone looking to bring a glimmer of light to an insurmountable darkness. And, as astounding as that was to wrap their heads around, in all honesty it was more than a little drowned out by their own revelations of their feelings for one another.

It was remarkably fast to fall in love. Especially, perhaps, considering neither of them had come close in a very long time—or, in at least in Holly’s case, ever. But maybe when you’ve not seen it up close before, it hits you more clearly when you do. She’d felt it nearly instantaneously, and she had a sense that he had as well. The fact that she was now convinced someone had put them together intentionally, betting they would fall in love (or at least get close enough to make all the necessary discoveries) was mind-boggling, though probably it shouldn’t have been. There was part of her that longed to have been a fly on the wall of whatever office or backwoods bunker had seen the origin of that plan.

Holly knew she wasn’t alone in what she did. Possibly alone in doing it quite the way she did, and she knew her grandmother’s reputation had been far-reaching, but her own star was considerably more subtle. She knew she had made a small impact—maybe it had been greater than she’d been aware. Or maybe it was just that she’d matched up perfectly with Max.

Because certainly Max’s own reputation far outshone her own. He was completely unlike any captain she’d ever known, so much softer, more open—so distinct from the clipped and efficient manner she was used to equating with military brass. She had from the beginning found herself wishing there were more like him in Command. Evidently she’d not been the only one to feel that way. Because she didn’t think for one moment that he’d been chosen merely to bring her in. That could have been achieved in fourteen different ways at least. No, he’d been an intentional part of this plan—and she was sure it wasn’t just for her own benefit.

It gave her a strange kind of hope, this notion that somewhere someone was pulling strings for the better, even if that better was seriously limited and actually quite underhanded. Maybe it was some kind of atonement, carried out by someone nearing an end and finding the regrets too painful to leave unacknowledged. Or maybe it was a fresh start; the beginning of an approach still too new to brave stepping out from the shadows. It was impossible to know, though she figured time would probably tell.

Regardless, here they were, two people, put together with some kind of idea they might fall for each other, and they very much had. It was hard to not be affected by that.

But after a while sitting with those thoughts, letting them swirl around and through them, the strangeness, the awe, the unsettling quality of all of it faded, and what they were left with was the very real fact that they had indeed fallen for each other in a very short space of time. And, fallen irrevocably. Because while it was fairly obvious that theirs would never be a “normal” relationship (whatever that might mean), it was equally clear to them both that this was, in some sense, _it_ for them.

Holly was rubbing the tattoo on his wrist. He seemed amused by it, but mostly he appeared focused on simply holding her in his arms. Although _simply_ wasn’t even close to describing how it felt. It was so far beyond anything she could have imagined or expected. Which was a remarkable feeling.

“Max, did you really mean that—about not expecting to find love? Ever?”

He sighed. “I guess I’ve always figured I blew all my chances years ago. I was something of a player in grad school. Go figure, right? Astrophysics is a lot sexier than you might imagine.”

“I think I’ve noticed, actually.”

That got a surprised laugh out of him, genuine amusement. “I’ve softened with age, darlin’. You would not have been so taken with me back then.”

“Aren’t I the lucky one, then.”

“What about you? They say trouble generally recognizes trouble. I may be rusty, but some things you never really forget.”

She hit his arm softly. “Nicely put, Max. I tend to be more bluster than substance. Although I do have something of an awful track record when it comes to choices, especially at University. Mostly it’s that my lines are blurry, and there’s not a lot I won’t do, given the opportunity. But there are levels of meaning, and I tend to exist on one level because of my work. Because I assume there’s no plausibility of something functional in a conventional sense.” She paused. “I never _wanted_ that before, though. So I never missed it.”

“ _Before_...” He hadn’t missed the qualifier—she hadn’t expected him to.

“You need to hear it, don’t you?” For all he was so naturally confident, there was that vulnerability.

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

She’d expected it would be hard to admit, but it was amazingly easy.

“Max, if I wasn’t who I am, and you weren’t who you are, I would run away with you and never look back.”

His response was barely above a whisper: “ _Thank you_.” A slow breath, then: “Me too, darlin’.”

She allowed them to savor that for a moment. It was a powerful fantasy. But she was ultimately a pragmatist. And she suspected he would be as well. “But we are... and there you go.” It wasn’t a dismissal. More a sense that dwelling for too long on what would never be was simply a waste of time.

“I still want it.” He would push her to admit it, and she was glad of it.

She smiled. “I know. I do too.”

“So, what do we do?” His pragmatism was starting to kick in.

“I haven’t the least idea,” her actions belied her words, though, because as she said it, she flung herself on top of him.

Impressively, he kept a straight face. “Me neither. Only....”

“Yes?” She’d reached her hands around the back of his head, and was rubbing soft circles on his neck, which made it hard for him to focus. She tried not to grin too obviously.

“I think it’s more than about time that we....” As he spoke, his hands smoothed over her back, coming to rest on her bum. He squeezed, pulling her in for a kiss, earning him in a small moan from her, directly into his mouth, which elicited a full body shiver from him in response.

It had occurred to her to wonder why they’d waited what felt like a very long time (even though it had been a matter of days). She was glad they had, though, because now it would be theirs only and not influenced by calculating strangers. But now it was time. And they took their sweet, sweet time.

It was getting cool out, but it felt important to be under the stars. There were plenty of pillows and blankets filling the sunken floor of the deck, and maybe the cramped space made things slightly awkward, but things are the first time anyway. And they were both a little out of practice, and neither of them had already been in love when they first got to this point, and that made everything completely different. They’d already learned quite a bit about each other’s bodies, and they shared a comfort level that was well beyond their few days together. But their exploration was slow and through and patient. There was no hurry, no rush. It was thoughtful, and intimate, and utterly magnificent.

When they were completely exhausted and had snuggled down beneath the blankets, the evening breeze had grown cold, as he’d said it would, and she found she wasn’t quite warm enough. She tried not to shiver, but she knew he noticed. He was only wearing a lightweight shirt himself, so it wasn’t as though he was dressed any more warmly than she was. But she sensed he was feeling smug.

“I told you to bring something warm... did you?”

“I brought layers, but I didn’t have anything really all that warm with me....”

“Huh,” he replied.

If she’d had to have guessed, she would have pegged him as the chivalrous, here’s-my-coat type. But he didn’t offer. When it was evident that was all he was going to say, she burrowed deeper amongst the blankets, nestling against his side, pulling his arm more tightly around her and whispered: “You are horrible.”

“We could go in,” he offered. “I have a nice bed and everything.”

“I want the stars with us tonight.”

She didn’t need to see to know that had made him smile. He kissed the top of her head and held her closer. “Okay, darlin’, whatever you say,” and pulled another blanket on top of them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m playing fast and loose with native and non-native plants here, but I made up the island in the first place, so that makes it okay, right?

After a breakfast of eggs and toast with guava jam and lots of coffee (he was a fast learner), they took the inflatable to the island. They swam, played in the sand, sat in the shade of the heliotrope trees. He tried to get her to explore further inland, to see if there were plants here she hadn’t found yet, but she was much more interested in splashing him in the shallow water, tackling him in the surf, pressing him into the soft sand, and kissing him until he was as lightheaded as he’d made her the day before.

She must have muttered something about that before she started kissing him, because when she finally let him go he narrowed his eyes at her, and in a voice so low it made her gasp, said it was nice to know she was keeping score. Then, when he recovered his strength, he got the raft from the beach and carried it beneath the trees. Lifting her up (again as though she were completely insubstantial and not, as she knew, quite solid), he tossed her into the raft and stood looking down at her, a flash of regret passing through him. Holly watched as he tried to swallow it down, and she sighed. Holding out a hand to him as he landed in the raft, she turned him toward her.

“Max, don’t try to deny it, don’t try to hide it. There will be time later to pretend it doesn’t hurt, but we don’t have to do that now. Let it be part of this. Because it is.”

He had a second tattoo—a compass rose, right over his heart. It occurred to her that she might have underestimated just how lost he’d been, when they’d met. She wasn’t about to underestimate how much he had now hitched his star to hers, how much his fate had become twined with hers. And what that might mean to him, what it might do to him. She put her hand over the compass, over his heart, and let herself sink into his eyes.

“We will find each other. When we need to.”

He searched deep within her eyes, as though he were looking for something—something to anchor himself to, she guessed. It seemed he found it, because he gave a series of small, quick nods, and then, blinking to clear the moisture that had gathered in his eyes, he pulled himself on top of her, and wordlessly echoed that promise with his body.

They went back to the boat for lunch and some rest. It was their first time sleeping in the boat’s actual bed, which was surprisingly comfortable and not just because she was comparing it to the hard wood of the deck or the grittiness of the sand. When they woke from napping, she managed to distract him for a while—she’d been learning things he couldn’t resist, and delighted in tormenting him... which he very much enjoyed. She realized she could stay with him like this for a very long time, which startled her. Holly was not normally one for lazing about in bed. He evidently wasn’t either, and began demanding she explore the island’s flowers and plants. Eventually, to shut him up, she agreed.

Of course she was glad she had. There were no plants she hadn’t already met, although there were slight variations—probably because of the isolated nature of the island. But more interestingly, some of the plants were hanging out with what she would have called unlikely partners. Maybe because of hidden aspects of the soil she couldn’t guess at, or maybe because of wind patterns on this rocky bit of land, she wasn’t sure, but she loved it. She went a little into what JJ called her “plant nerd” mode, but she couldn’t help it—nature challenging her expectations was something that excited her, and she wandered around the small jungle exclaiming over the surprising relationships. Max followed her, clearly amused, and equally clearly, besotted. (It was only fair, she granted. She’d been ogling over him as he sailed. This was her equivalent.)

They found their way into a clearing in the denser growth, where a loose canopy of _Cassia nealiae_ trees were in full bloom. They were lit from behind like stained glass, the yellow and pink blossoms glowing like enchanted things from a fairytale.

“Oh, they are magical, aren’t they?” They lined the streets of the cities, they were ubiquitous. She knew that. Watching Max take them in, as though noticing the details of the flowers for the first time, she grinned. “I want to know the story behind their common name. Anyone who decides to call a tree ‘rainbow shower tree’ is someone I’d like to have known.”

He laughed. “It’s probably not as fabulous an explanation as you imagine. Rainbows are just as common here as the trees.”

“Oh, but could you ever get used to that?” She looked at him and he shrugged lightly. He’d grown up with it, and she had to scold herself for feeling envious.

“I admit, they are beautiful. I’m probably just too used to them. But surely you have trees I would be amazed at, that you take for granted?”

“Oh, I never take trees for granted,” she replied before realizing that made her sound... if not smug at least slightly rude. “I mean, yes, we have some that are quite lovely that I probably overlook at least a little. Our white chestnuts are vital to my work, very important medicinally, and they can be spectacular when they’re in full bloom.” She twirled around in the falling petals. “But they’re nothing quite so magical as this.” Unable to help herself, she plopped down amongst the fallen petals and sighed a tiny bit peevishly. “I will miss them. I will miss all my new floral friends.”

Max came to sit next to her, lowering himself to the ground easily—gracefully, even. Not one thing she’d done had made him blink, she realized as her heart turned over. Not one single thing. JJ never blinked, but he’d known her (not to mention her context) since birth. Besides. They shared genetics. No other person had been so willing to be this close to Holly and all her enthusiasms, her energy, her observations, her ramblings.... Her heart might have accepted it with some level of peace, but her mind was still completely a flutter with it. Probably would be for a while.

He was looking at her as though he was figuring something out.

“I kind of think,” he began slowly. “...That they will miss you as well.”

He smiled warmly after he’d said it, and he couldn’t have known how that simple thought might affect her, but she was certain it was not something that would have occurred to him to say three days ago. It gave her an idea.

Looking around her for something to test her theory, she settled on an especially lush cluster of _Awapuhi-melemele_ close by. The pale primrose yellow was her favorite color, soft and soothing and happy. She jumped up and went over to it, turning back to call him over.

“Come see what you make of this one.” He walked over to her, eyebrows up, questioning. “Just sit with her for a bit and tell me how you feel after....”

He nodded and sat down, but not before leaning in and breathing in the scent of the ginger.

She wandered close by, letting her mind float, allowing herself some time to just be with her plant friends. It was one of her weaknesses, she knew, winding up adrift with them. The number of times she lost track of time in the woods or her garden—well, she’d never tried to keep track, but she’d been more than a little scolded as a child for staying out too long and not coming when called. More times than she cared to remember. It was, she had decided, part of what made her reasonably good at what she did. She imagine her sense of time was closer to plant sense than human. And she couldn’t explain it, but she knew that on some level that was part of what she was able to use with her... she never liked to call them “patients” (if only because they were absolutely never patient in the least), but her “cases” sounded too impersonal. Her grandmother had always just called them “her agents,” but Holly had been through too much training to allow herself that liberty. She might have admitted that’s what she called them in her heart. Maybe as she got older and more comfortable in her position it would be something she would feel okay doing. The thought made her happy, and she whispered to the trees around her, “I rather think I might.” And then smiled.

Max found her, moments later, as she was humming softly, leaning up against a new arboreal acquaintance. He leaned next to her, and reached down to take hold of her hand.

“I feel lighter somehow... as though a burden of some sort I wasn’t even aware of has been lifted, just a little. It’s nice, I feel refreshed.”

She grinned, turning around to kiss him. “It always amazes me. How remarkably well that works. It’s why I grow my own plants, and not just use things I can buy from someone else. Sometimes being with the plant is as effective as taking the remedy.”

Max still seemed lost in the kiss. He was looking at her lips, and licking his. He forced his eyes up to hers and blushed lightly at the amused expression on her face. “There’s a Hawaiian song, you know,” he explained, attempting to cover his embarrassment. “About a yellow ginger lei.”

She’d eyed the pale yellow leis when she’d arrived. Much more _her_ than the classic bright purple orchid ones. “Oh, I love that. Do you know, it’s one of the reasons I wanted to come to Hawaii... there’s a closeness here between the people and the plants that infiltrates so much of the culture.” She bent to pick a fallen flower off the ground—they were everywhere and she adored that. “I always wished I’d grown up somewhere like that. Not that we English don’t love our gardens, but that’s not the same at all—nearly everything is cultivated. I love the wildness here, even in the middle of the city.”

He smiled heatedly at her gushing. “I’ll play it for you when we get back,” he murmured as he pulled her in for another, longer kiss.

The fact that her enthusiasm drew him in rather than away sent shivers through her. She was much more used to being shushed or ignored, but he loved when she went on and on, and that was something she didn’t think she would get used to.

On their way back to the boat, there was a rainbow out at sea, and Holly made him stop and watch it with her.

“That’s the fifth rainbow I’ve seen since I’ve been here,” she exclaimed, putting her sunglasses up on her head to get a better view of the colors, though she knew they’d tangle in her messy hair. She felt goose bumps up her arms. “I can’t get over the sheer wonder of a place where they’re a daily occurrence.”

She turned to look at him, to see what his face looked like, and saw that he was watching not the rainbow but her. Realizing he was again finding delight not in the thing she was admiring, but in her enjoyment of it, she blushed, settled herself back in his arms, pulling them around her like a life vest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” He asked, brushing her ear with his lips.

“For being wonderful.”

He chuckled in amusement. “From where I sit, it’s you who’s wonderful, darlin’.”

Eventually they made it back to the boat, cooked a simple supper of pasta with shrimp, and shared a bottle of wine, sitting on the deck, as the stars slowly appeared in the darkening sky. She’d always thought she could see a lot of stars at home, but it was nothing to how many you could see here. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing you’d ever get used to. But then, she’d never been in space.

“Do you get lonely?” Max had been watching her again, rather than the stars. Playing with her hands, and brushing the hair from her face when the wind blew it into her eyes.

“Sometimes,” she admitted softly. “Mostly, though, I like it.” She scooted closer to him, using him as a pillow. He made a fabulous pillow; not that he was soft, but he was more comforting than her favorite pillow at home. “I like the simplicity. People complicate things. And, yes, I realize that’s ironic given what I do. But I like that. One at a time, I can do. I focus naturally—obsess is probably a better word. I like the _depth_.” She felt him nod, either in acknowledgment or agreement, she wasn’t sure.

“Doesn’t being isolated frighten you?” There was something in his tone that alerted her. Turning around so she could see his face she found confirmation in his eyes. He was worrying about her. It wasn’t exactly the same look JJ gave her every time he left after a visit, but it was close enough. She smiled sweetly.

“I love my small village. We look out for each other when we need to, and leave each other alone when we don’t. Growing up, I spent most of my time in the woods. And they were scary and dark and I thrived on it, and sometimes I was frightened, but I had a very active imagination, and I would imagine that the creatures of the forest would keep me safe.”

“Mrs Tiggy-Winkle, Peter Rabbit, and Squirrel Nutkin?” He teased.

“No, silly,” she grinned, reaching up to kiss him. “ _Unicorns_.”

That made him laugh. “A magical forest,” he whispered. “Of course.” And he wrapped her up tightly, kissing her head, holding her close as though he could keep her safe.

“What about you, Max?” Because two could play the worrying game. “How are you going to adjust to living on land? Having a chair that’s behind a desk and not amongst the stars?”

She felt his sigh against her head. “I know you don’t like hearing it, but I really am getting too old for that life.” Shaking her head, she pulled his arms around her, pressing her face into his arm and kissing it. He laughed lightly. “I am going to find a chair that is actually comfortable, and get a nice lamp, and I am going to read some books that aren’t about the sea or the stars.” He took a deep breath. “And I am going to make sure the young upstarts don’t get too out of hand.” It was an attempt at humor, but it fell flat, and Holly had serious doubts about his being content with that plan, but she decided to leave it for now.

“I could send you some books about plants,” she offered, playfully.

“You know, I think I’d actually enjoy that.” She could hear the pleasure in his voice, and it made her heart flutter.

There was a pause, and she was pretty sure they were sharing the same thought, about things that would never be. She was trying to come up with something to distract them when he stirred.

“We really should clean up.” He moved reluctantly to extricate himself from her.

They took their dishes down to the galley where Holly stopped Max with a hand on his arm. Reaching behind her, she picked up his ukulele and handed it to him. “Go play for me, I’ll do the washing up.”

He looked surprised at first, and then pleased, and she found herself wondering if he ever played for others, or if it was another thing he kept to himself. “That’s a nice trade off,” he whispered, kissing her cheek.

She shook her head and shooed him back up on deck. “Get out of my way,” she muttered, lightly smacking his rear as he climbed the stairs.

“Hey, now....”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hit you?” She feigned innocence, which drew a genuine laugh from him.

Sighing dramatically, she turned to the dishes, as he began to play. A sweet, slightly plaintive melody she thought she recognized. And then, softly, he began to sing. She dropped the glass she’d been washing—he should be glad they were plastic and not glass.

“ _I saw you in my dream, we were walking hand in hand, on a white sandy beach of Hawaii...._ ”

Her heart crept into her throat. Wiping her hands on the dish towel, she stepped over to the ladder up to the deck, and stood there listening, barely breathing.

_“The sound of the ocean soothes my restless soul. The sound of the ocean rocks me all night long.... Last night in my dream, I saw your face again. We were there, in the sun, on a white sandy beach... of Hawaii.”_

When he finished and saw her watching, he ducked his head, unsure how she might react.

“Why have you been hiding that from me?” She asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. She didn’t realize she was crying until he put the ukulele down and leaned over to wipe her tears away.

“I usually only sing when I’m drunk, morose, and alone.” He tried to play it off as a joke, but she saw through him.

“You shouldn’t—” She pressed her lips together, took a breath, and couldn’t finish the thought. Leaving the dishes, she climbed up and settled against his side.

Picking the ukulele back up he played another tune that was slightly less doleful, and sang softly to her in Hawaiian.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Max sings is “White Sandy Beach,” by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. It is _beautiful._


	9. Chapter 9

They spent the next two days in much the same way—fixing simple food in the close quarters of the galley; splashing and swimming and playing in the crystal clear shallow waters; making friends with the unusual plant combinations; sitting quietly together, holding hands, cuddling in the nest of pillows and blankets on the deck; talking about meaningless things and poignant things and completely ridiculous things; making love in as many ways as possible. It was as near to her perfect existence as she thought she could get.

She made some sketches on the boat—her ability to draw people wasn’t as good as she’d like, but she tried to capture his amused smile and his eyes, and his tattoos (for her own sentimental reasons). She also drew several sketches of the boat—one of which she gave to Max, so he could have the _Hoku-Lele_ with him in San Francisco. When she said as much, something had flashed deep in his sea-blue eyes and Holly wondered if he might begin to rethink his no-sailing-in-the-bay rule. She tucked the thought away for later.

They also talked about work. Max, for his part, was curious about her methods, partly out of sincere scientific interest and partly out of concern for her safety and wellbeing, and Holly wanted to know about the NX Project and the people involved for similar reasons. She imagined he wouldn’t know the Section agents who would end up darkening her doorway, and it wasn’t likely any ‘Fleet officers would be sent to her, but there was plenty they could talk about, and they savored that.

Holly found she didn’t want to hide anything about what she did. Even though she knew he’d have objections to the danger she placed herself in, he’d find out soon enough anyway, and she’d prefer it come from her, if for no other reason than she’d be able to defend herself in person. Which she did with maybe a little more fire than he really needed.

“Believe me, I hear it from JJ all the time,” she whispered at the end of an especially tense exchange, kissing him to still his concern.

She hadn’t told him JJ’s real name, but if he wanted to find out, she couldn’t stop him—he certainly had the means and it wasn’t as though they hid their relationship. Most people just never thought to look. They would hit it off, she decided, although she also suspected that JJ might judge Max harshly, for overly protective reasons. But she suspected Max would easily become fond of JJ. There were some sharp contrasts between them—JJ could, when he wanted, be brazen and brash, and he was prone to snark and sass and generally more of a “personality” than Max was (part of that could be age, and, as she liked to point out and he never denied, JJ was willfully immature for his age). But they were both compassionate, they both had a softness that went directly to her heart, and both were the kind of leaders she wanted to see more of. And both were more than a little fond of her. 

Ultimately, she knew, JJ found comfort in the fact that if anyone ever did hurt her, he would stop at nothing to avenge that—something he absolutely was both capable of, and willing to do. Max would have to find his own way of making peace with what she did, and she knew it would take some time. Meanwhile, she could only try to remind him of why he’d fallen for her in the first place.

“Thing is,” she whispered, as she stayed close enough to kiss him again. “You can’t try and protect me and also believe in what I do. I just doesn’t work. You have to trust me.”

“I do,” he sighed, letting his forehead fall forward to rest against hers. “That’s the thing. I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known, and I don’t even begin to understand that.” He sounded frustrated by his confusion, and she felt a brief pang as she realized she’d complicated his life far beyond what he was accustomed. To be fair, that hadn’t been her doing, exactly, and she knew he was up to dealing with it. But it was a contradiction that pulled at him—the trust, alongside the worry. He knew what she did had its very real dangers. But he trusted her implicitly, he couldn’t not. She saw the conflict in his eyes, and it strained at her heart.

“I suggest, instead of trying to understand it, you kiss me.”

It didn’t take much for him to give in. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but he pulled her into his lap and whispered: “I think I can do that.” And then proceeded to take her slowly apart.

After they’d learned several more new things about each other’s bodies, they went down to the galley, and while she cooked, Holly got Max talking about the NX Project.

“Most of the people involved are what you’d expect—rash, young, daredevil types.”

“You make it sound bad, but surely that’s what you need in the kind of work?”

“I might ordinarily agree with you, but there’s the sticky problem of the Vulcans....” He was sitting on the galley bench, twirling a glass of gin in his hands, and he frowned into it as though he suspected their pointy eared allies would be a thorn in his side for many years to come.

“Ah.” She added more butter to the sauté pan. “I’ve only met one, and I’m fairly certain she was not your typical Vulcan....” He looked curiously at her, and she had her first moment of realizing she couldn’t tell him everything. She sighed, set her spatula down and crawled onto his lap. “Oh, Max—you had to learn this eventually...” she kissed his nose. “There are some things I can’t ever tell you.”

He scratched the back of his neck and let his head drop. Nodding, he looked into her eyes. “I know.” He couldn’t deny there weren’t things he would never be able to tell her, she knew that. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to say it, though. Which puzzled her. Until she realized that might have been a deal breaker for someone in his past.

“I’m used to it, you know. You needn’t ever worry about that with me.”

He looked up at her gratefully, then nodded back to the fish she’d left floating in a sea of melted butter. “Better keep an eye on that, darlin’. Don’t want it to drown.”

She took his glass from him, sipping carefully on the too-strong gin, and handing it back to him before turning back to the stove.

They took their plates up on deck to eat under the orange and pink sunset, and eventually he drifted back to talking about his new job. He hadn’t been used to having someone to talk to—not lately, anyway—and he was warming up to it slowly. When he’d finished his food and had gone back down for another glass of gin, he opened up a little more, much to Holly’s delight.

“One of the pilots I know I’ll be working with is the son of the man who invented the engine we’re basing everything on.” He looked out at the island, turning purple in the evening light. “Jonathan has a chip on his shoulder the size of that island, and if he can’t get past that, I don’t know if he’ll make it.” He stretched his legs out and leaned back. “Everyone knows he thinks he deserves to be captain of that warp five ship one day, and the only thing really standing in the way is himself.” Max tilted his head and looked thoughtfully at her. “I wish I could send him to you,” he mused. “Maybe you could get him to see sense.”

“That’s not exactly how it works, Max,” she said, softly, running her fingers over his head. She adored how like velvet it felt, cut so short, and she was growing more than a little fond of petting it.

So, it seemed, was he. He leaned closer to her, resting his head on her shoulder. “I know,” he sighed. “But it’s a nice thought. I can just tell he’s going to cause me problems.”

“Somehow, I think you’re more than up to the task.” It was impossible to imagine he hadn’t had problematic junior officers on his ship, but this was going to be a different situation entirely, she understood that. She also understood that he might have started to question the reasons he’d been chosen for the position, and perhaps to think he didn’t fully deserve it.

“I hope you’re right.” His tone echoed her guesses, and she knew he wanted reassurance. She also knew he wouldn’t ask. Not for the first time, she felt his isolation tug at her heart. He was worried about her, seemingly alone in her woods, but she couldn’t help but think that he was much more alone than she ever was.

“Max. Even if you did get the post only because of this whole whatever to get me involved—which for the record, I do not believe for one moment—but _even if_ , they still wouldn’t have given it to you if they didn’t _know_ you’re up to it.”

It seemed to help at least a little.

“If I ever figure out who did this, I think I’ll kiss them.”

He kissed her instead.

 

Sailing back was a bittersweet thing for them both. On the one hand, they knew they were leaving a completely dreamy paradise they could never hope to recapture. On the other, they knew the return to civilization would bring a stronger flavor of reality to their relationship—and neither of them would have denied that was something they wanted.

They had two days and two nights together back on land before Max was due at ‘Fleet HQ. Assuming, that is, he was going back. Which he was—although Holly more than once caught him muttering under his breath that maybe he should just retire. When he added that he might move to a cottage in the woods, and did she know of one he might find accommodating, she stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“Max. When you are ready for that, you know— _you know_ —I will be beyond thrilled. But,” she moved her hand to his face, and he leaned into it like a cat. “If you do it before you are ready you will regret it.” She kissed his lips lightly. “Please don’t make me part of that regret.”

It had been exactly the right way to get through to him. Struggling to swallow, he nodded, then brought his hand up to hold hers, and brought it to his lips.

“I _will_ take you up on that, darlin’. Don’t think for one moment that I won’t.”

His eyes were dark as he said it—she loved that they changed like the sea, reflecting his mood. She knew forty seven things could keep him from that promise, though, so she didn’t reply, she just kissed him again, and let herself get lost in his eyes.

He did have to get the boat ready for storage, which would take a few hours. While he was gone, she made her arrangements to return to England before the next phase of her trip. She’d planned to go back to drop off notes and switch books and clothes, but she was leaning towards staying home a bit longer. She had a lot of notes to organize—something she seemed oddly unable to do while Max was around. 

Once those things were taken care of they took the rest of their time to have, as best they could, a normal vacation. They swam in that wonderful pool that would always be a special place for them; they walked on “their” beach; they ate at the place they’d shared their first meal, shave ice and shrimp; they sat companionably side by side, Holly reading, Max playing his ukulele.

She’d loved their time on the boat, and she would always treasure it, but this was more meaningful for her because it was more grounded, more real, and by the end of it, she felt as though she’d known him all her life. He had become part of her, and he always would be. She knew he felt the same, but they had mostly avoided talking about it, focusing as best they could on the moments they had.

Their last morning, she stood out on the lanai, in the sun, drinking her coffee. He came out, wrapping his arms around her from behind, nuzzling against her neck. He smelled like soap and mint, but under that he still smelled like his boat and the sea, and she breathed it in, wanting to remember it.

“It’s the sun I’ll miss most, I think. More than the salt air or the flowers. Our sun never gets that warm, never gets this bright. My body will miss it.”

“What I will miss most is you,” he whispered into her neck, kissing it, and keeping his face buried there. 

It was so honest her heart stuttered. She turned in his arms, wrapping herself around him and looking into his eyes. “I do not plan on missing you,” she said, somewhat sternly. “I plan on bothering you regularly, making you play your ukulele and sing for me when I can’t sleep. I haven’t the slightest notion of the time difference between us, so I hope you don’t mind hearing from me at all hours... actually, it doesn’t matter if you mind, I’m doing it anyway.”

“I absolutely will _not_ mind.”

“Good.”

“I’ll still miss you.” As he had before, he wasn’t going to let her get away that easily.

She couldn’t say it. It would hurt too much, and she didn’t want to cry. Not now. Instead, she managed to whisper: “I can’t not see you again.”

He smiled, and nodded. “I know. We’ll find a way.”

 

They shared a flitter to the shuttle port in silence, holding hands the whole way. In the lounge, they hesitated, before parting ways. They’d already said goodbye, and they wouldn’t do it again in public.

He pressed a small package into her hand. “Don’t open it till you get home.”

“Be careful, Max. Someone is looking out for you, but that might not last.”

“I’ll be careful if you will,” he hissed. She’d not been sure he could sound threatening, but now she knew he could. It put her a little more at ease, to be honest. He might need it.

Pulling on his hands, she yanked him down enough that she could kiss him, leaving him her answer wordlessly. Then she turned and walked away, but faltered and looked back. Seeing him watching, her heart just about gave in. Blowing him a kiss, she put her sunglasses on so she could let herself cry, and headed to her gate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I promise the epilogue will make you smile......_


	10. Epilogue

Holly hadn’t planned on stopping long at home before going to New Zealand. Just long enough to make sure Ned was doing okay with her garden, tuck her notes away safely, pick up the next round of books, and make sure she had appropriate clothing.

But then, Holly hadn’t planned on Max.

She needed _home_ , if only for a little while, to regain her equilibrium. Besides, she was pretty sure that if she went directly on it would be wasted time. There wasn’t room in her heart for new plants; the Hawaiian ones had taken all the room that was available, and she wasn’t really sure how long it would be before she could process more.

Obviously she meant more than just plants.

Her cottage, which had always been her sanctuary, felt lifeless. Even her beloved white roses seemed wan and insubstantial. The colors of England seemed dull after the bold flowers of Hawaii.

And, yes, she knew why.

She unpacked her notes, but putting them away felt wrong. Knowing it was probably a mistake, she put them on her bedside table. Having them near her might help her to sleep—if it didn’t keep her awake.

Underneath the notes she found a tee shirt of Max’s she’d “stolen.” (He’d watched her take it, and with a huge smile on his face, so it didn’t really count as stealing, but she liked the sentiment.) Feeling like a complete cliché, she held it to her face and started to breathe him in, but wound up sobbing into it instead.

Before she could give in to tears, she hurriedly put the shirt under her pillow, then pulled her sketches out from the stack of notes. She’d drawn several of the _Hoku-Lele_ , and she’d picked the best to give to Max, but there were three she’d kept. Standing one up against her lamp, she thought maybe she’d get her watercolors out later and try her hand at capturing the color of Max’s eyes and paint the sea that color. She was pretty sure the color would haunt her dreams otherwise.

Not knowing what else to do, she went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Because that’s what one does when one doesn’t know what else to do. It was something, at least.

While she stood at the sink, soaking up the little bit of sun coming in through the window, she remembered the gift Max had made her promise to not open till she was home. Digging through her bag she found it, then sitting at the table, she held it in her hands and pondered for a bit. She hadn’t known that he’d gotten her something—shopping wasn’t exactly her thing, and she hadn’t thought it was his. Which made it all the more curious he’d gone out of his way to get her something. Suspecting it was fragile, because it was light and wrapped in tissue, she carefully unwrapped it to reveal a delicate glass unicorn, hanging by a thin wire, dangling a crystal beneath. Her breath caught. _Of course_ Max had chosen to align himself with her childhood protector. She choked on a laugh over how apt it was; they were both now with her only in her heart and in her mind. When tears blurred her vision, she put it carefully down and wiped her eyes, then pulled herself together and stood. She knew the perfect spot for it....

Ignoring the kettle’s protest, Holly walked back to the kitchen sink, reached up to take down the bunch of thyme drying there, and slipped the unicorn’s wire over the hook. Tiny rainbows flickered across the kitchen floor, and she remembered what she’d said about them, about the wonder of having rainbows every day.

“Oh, Max.”

She filled her mug with water from the kettle, added a bag of Earl Grey, and walked to the computer, breathing in the smell of bergamot as she went. Despite her protestations to the contrary, she had in fact bothered to learn the time difference between herself and Max, and she knew he would be up or about to be (and either way, she knew he wouldn’t mind).

“Hi, darlin’,” he said, sleepily, and very, very fondly.

“I see you bothered to dress for me,” she teased, admiring (and missing) his bare chest.

“Only the best for you.”

“I love the unicorn, Max. It’s perfect.”

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

“How’s that extra pip feel? Too heavy for you?”

“I’ll get used to it.”

She had a feeling they would become proficient in using words other than as they seemed. Blowing him a kiss, she whispered: “Call me when you go to bed tonight.”

His eyes flashed at that, and he nodded and signed off.

Turning back to the too-still room, Holly decided to put on some music—she’d found a collection of Hawaiian songs that reminded her of Max’s playing, and while it filled the silence, it didn’t exactly soothe her heart. Leaving her tea for something stronger, she got out a bottle of her gorse wine, known for, as she always said, “bringing inner sunshine.” That was something she very much needed.

Her cupboard, she noted, was otherwise empty, but she wasn’t exactly hungry. Not for food, anyway. Still, she’d need something to eat later, so she was contemplating a walk into town for supplies when she spotted movement on the street in front.

“Summoned by my needs, as always.” She should have known.

Hurrying to the door, she ran out to meet Ned under the rose arch, but he was holding a pie dish, so she couldn’t hug him until she’d taken it.

“There you go, lassie,” he soothed, and she didn’t follow till she realized she was crying. _Oh, hell_ , this had to stop, she swore silently. 

“Nell saw you arrive home and set to fixing this for you—knew you wouldn’t eat otherwise. So, how’re your plants doing, lass? Did I do okay by them? I had a bit of a time keeping critters away from the fruit, maybe you should get a cat....” He went on rambling, as she took his arm and let him lead her around the garden—which looked fantastic. But then, Ned always won the village competition for Tidiest Garden, so she hadn’t expected anything less. Her garden was far from tidy, and she always worried he thought less of her for it, but he never seemed to even notice. It was one of many things she adored about him.

They wound up having tea, sitting at her garden table in the cooling evening. He caught her up with the latest news from the village—she’d not been gone long, but a lot seemed to have happened. Though when “news” includes a stray cat knocking over Miss Gladys’ prize geraniums, well, quite a bit could happen in a short time. Eventually she sent him home with a bottle of her gorse wine and a kiss on the cheek, and one for Nell.

She ate the fisherman’s pie (which was comforting but made her heart ache for obvious reasons), drank more of the gorse wine, and then pulled out a book to read (an old novel about Richard III and his youthful love, her version of trashy reading), and started a bath. Oh, she had missed her bath, she realized as she slid beneath the embrace of the water. She must have slid into remembering her trip as well, as she lost track of time and was startled out of her daydream by the comm, whereupon she realized the water had grown cold. Scolding herself for inattentiveness, she grabbed her fluffy bathrobe, and went to answer the call.

She should have known who it would be—which was turning into something of a theme for the day.

“Hols, babe!” His slang with her was always half British, half American. It was awful. It was also one of her favorite things on earth.

“Oh my god, JJ.” The one person who could truly make her feel better, and he just randomly calls her? Not bloody likely. She prickled all over with suspicion, squinting at JJ as though it would help her to see what was going on. If he noticed (which she was certain he did), he ignored it and launched into what he had to say.

“How was Hawaii? No, wait, let me tell you mine first. I’ve got leave coming up—” She frowned at that, surely he’d have told her if that was the case. “I know you don’t _need_ help with your work, but I like to think you find me decent company, and we always talked about camping in New Zealand. Whaddya say? Can I come with you?”

She took a breath and focused her most stern expression on him. “ _JJ_.”

It was enough. They had a rule about not bullshitting each other that went back to their parents and abominable messes they’d vowed as teenagers not to repeat. He dropped the act with a cheeky grin that made her want to throw a pillow at his head.

“He’s an amazing guy, Hols. Really. I’d even heard of him before he contacted me.”

“How’d he find you?”

“Come on, babe, it’s not like it’s all that hard.”

“We have _such_ distorted notions of what’s hard, have you ever thought about that?”

He laughed. “Alright. I’m packing. I’ll bring all the gear we need, okay? Just bring your books and warm clothes. I’ll meet you in New York in two days, we’ll go from there.”

“JJ. _Thank you_.”

“Anything for you, you know that. Besides—it’s him you should be thanking. Although... I’m pretty sure he’d rather you did that in person....”

The cheeky grin turned into a smirk, and she really did want to hit him with a pillow for that. She rolled her eyes at him as he signed off.

Some time with JJ was just the medicine her heart needed and it had been far too long since they’d had any real time together. She felt buoyed more than she could have imagined just minutes before, and she gathered her books and fresh notebooks, deciding to bring her watercolors as well. Maybe she’d paint something to send to Max.

Max. Wonderful, sweet, overly concerned Max. She was tempted to call him right away, but decided to wait for his call. Which meant she needed to sleep before she’d hear from him; time differences would drive her mad.

Amazingly, she fell asleep easily. Maybe it was the soothing food, her own bed, the familiarity of gossip from Ned, anticipating precious time with her beloved JJ—or possibly, it was knowing that Max had sought JJ out (and what that had done to her heart). Probably it was the combination of all of those. Whatever it was, she slept soundly.

She woke only moments before he commed her, but it was long enough for her to be alert when she was greeted by his amused smile and those infuriatingly twinkling eyes. He clearly anticipated her reaction to JJ’s suggestion.

“What have you done, Max?”

He grinned. “Honestly, it was all JJ.”

“Is that so?”

“I just wanted to....” He sighed, and looked longingly at her for a moment while he tried hard to swallow. “I needed someone who could tell me if you were likely to mope and stay home... and not continue your travels. Going with you to New Zealand was all his idea. I promise.”

She pressed her hands to her mouth, and managed to blink back the prickling in her eyes.

“ _Thank you_ , Max.”

He closed his eyes and nodded, and when he opened them, they were shining with desire.

“So, I’m all ready for bed... what’d you have in mind, darlin’?”

And so they began the first of many traditions, which were poor substitute for being together, but it was more than either of them had ever dared hoped for, and all things considered, they were okay with that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _.... And there we go! I hope you enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it!_


End file.
